So do you like my new avatar? It's supposed to represent the ushering of a new and improved Basil Fawlty. A more sophisticated version and I don't mean that in a 'I shall only wear blazers and drink champagne' sense. A more focused Fawlty, now with 20% less whining.
Who am I fooling? It's you. The Fawlty formula is world famous and practically patented: drink, drink some more, remember shit about yourself you hate which, under the normal rules of sobriety would be buried deep beneath layers of denial and hubris, and proceed to then flog yourself with it-in full view of the blogging community, mind you-until you pass out. Wake up the next day, read the shit you've written (I always remember writing it, hardly ever what it is I wrote) and wonder how you walk around with so much self-loathing and diffidence.
Did I ask if you liked my new avatar?
Things don't change; as much as they do, they don't. Let me be crystal clear: things change, but their speed of change is never enough to keep up with the falling of my spirit.
Couple that with the fact that I have ZERO confidence in myself, spells out one tortured little Fawlty. The irony-so-delicious-you-could-fry-it-with-butter is that my absence of confidence is what gives me my confidence: I'm certain I suck, ergo I have not much more to lose. Moreover, I'm certain I suck, but I'm more positive most people suck just as much as me, if not more. Finally, I suck but what sucks even more, is that I'm usually wrong about everything, even that.
Bleak stuff. And quite pathological.
So by my count, I lost half a dozen friends this year. I'm talking people I straight-up drove away because I'm difficult and inconsistent and complicated to deal with. I guess some of them were relationships, but most weren't. Friends are hard to deal with, because I can't figure out what they want.
What do you want, friends? What MORE do you want? I don't judge, I like to laugh, I don't hit on my friends (certainly not the guys but the girls are safe with me, as well) and I am never jealous or envious.
If all this sounds too good to be true, it might be. I've been accused of not giving a shit because of it. If you're not jealous or resentful or a little bit in love with your friends, then you must have some kind of agenda. You know, something really fucked up. Well, fuck it. Friends are too complicated; all I want from my friends is to be friendly without getting too close. Because deep down, I have nothing to offer. I'm emotionally bankrupt and I say this without a hint of self-pity.
Imagine that! A statement utterly devoid of self-pity in the midst of one gigantic blog dedicated to the indulgence of wallowing in self-pity.
This is just a fact that I can't seem to get away from. I'm too closed up for my feelings to leap all the way over to another person. I want someone, true, but I don't want even them to get too close.
Funny how the new Basil Fawlty isn't that different from the old. I think I may have a disease: I'm happy, during the day, but I have no joy.
Where do you people find your joy? And think about what you write before you post it; remember, I do this for a living, so if I see a cliche, a shred of disingenuousness, a quote from a book or a sentiment from whatever self-help manual you secretly have under your mattress...I'll assume that my own lack of originality has inspired yours.
Do you like my avatar? Stole it from a show called Mad Men, on AMC.